What is Fireside Fluff?
Fireside Fluff is a recurring segment in which your humble author presents an original work of fiction set in the Kings of War universe. Each segment contains one chapter in the ongoing story. So pull up a chair, fill your mug with some heady Dwarven ale, and settle in for a tale quite unlike any you’ve heard before…
First time readers, welcome! Please start the story at the beginning:
An Intruder in the Lady’s Domain
Freya emerged into the crisp night air and let out a sigh as the tension in her shoulders noticeably began to lessen. She was breaking the rules, something she was not accustomed to, and a surge of adrenaline rippled through her. She stole a furtive glance over her shoulder and back toward the dormitory. Nothing stirred. A faint smile crossed her lips as she quickened her pace and headed off in the direction of the forest.
A waning gibbous moon hung low in the sky and bathed the treetops in a soft, silver light. Freya made a conscious effort to focus on her senses, pulling her mind out of the past and rooting it firmly in the present. She took comfort in the feeling of her bare feet on the dew-covered grass. Her ears perked at the gentle chirping of crickets. A cool breeze was blowing steadily off the lake, causing the leaves to rustle. The night smelled fresh, with the green odor of the oak trees growing stronger as she reached the entrance to the old forest.
Freya paused. Her eyes had adjusted well enough to the greys of night, but inside the forest was pitch black. Spring was in bloom, and the moonlight could not easily penetrate the dense canopy. If she continued on, she’d be all but blind. She cast another glance back toward the convent, feeling less confident in her transgression. It had been a strange day, one that left her sore, confused, and alone. She needed sleep. She could go back now, but for whatever reason, the forest was calling out to her. Let’s just get this over with, she thought as she stepped over the threshold and into the woods.
Though she was robbed of sight, the path was well worn and easy enough to follow. Freya pressed ahead cautiously yet steadily as muscle memory took control. After following the path for a mile or so, she knew that it would lead to a clearing, one that she had visited often. That would be her destination. The night drew itself closely around Freya as she ventured further, the forest unperturbed by her presence.
How many of the sisters would willingly wander into the woods in the dark of night, she wondered with bemusement. Perhaps Agnes would muster up the courage if Freya promised to accompany her, but she could already picture the others shaking their heads in protest. There were no logical reasons to fear the woods, and the sisters regularly picked wild berries and mushrooms in the reassuring light of day without complaint, but this was Basilea, after all, and superstitions abounded. Stories of ancient spirits, older and more powerful than the Shining Ones, towering Centaurs, headstrong and proud, and wild fey, wicked and cunning, were often shared by the sisters after lights out. It had become a tradition to tell such tales in an attempt to spook new initiates on their first night, a rite of passage to test their resolve. Of course, Abbess Marion knew nothing of this practice, and would surely put an end to it if she ever found out.
Freya chuckled to herself about the foolishness of such stories as she rounded the corner and entered the clearing. Moonlight reflected off a round, grassy knoll about twelve feet in diameter. Freya climbed the gentle rise and laid on her back, crossing her hands beneath her head and bending her right knee in a relaxed pose. Now this, she thought, was definitely worth the trip.
She was about to close her eyes when the sound of slow, heavy footsteps caused her to jerk upright. She swiveled her head around and a cold panic gripped her tight. An enormous creature, standing nearly nine feet tall, had shambled into the clearing from the opposite direction. It was humanoid in shape, with a body of rune-etched bark, wrapped in a robe of deepest purple. It walked on cloven hooves and was armed with a massive, two-handed oak staff topped with sharpened bones. Its face was covered in a mask of bone, with wide stone antlers and a crown of twisted leaves atop its head. Glowing, purple eyes stared down at Freya without a trace of emotion. She gulped and slowly edged backward with her hands and feet.
“Freya,” the creature intoned with a deep, resonant voice, “daughter of Karstina and Jarand, would-be sister of the half-gods, and intruder in the Lady’s domain.” Freya froze at the mention of her parents’ names. “I am Drustan, warden of these sacred woods since time immemorial, and emissary of the Lady.”
“The Lady?” Freya offered weakly.
“The Green Lady,” Drustan responded with a touch of impatience. “The one who resisted the shattering of the mirror. The one composed of two souls and three aspects. The one who maintains balance in the world, despite considerable efforts to the contrary. The one who hath gifted you with magic, and now calls upon your service. She is the only true Goddess left, my child, and you will show her respect.”
“Yes,” Freya managed with an awkward bow, unable to keep her voice from trembling. She didn’t understand half of what this creature was saying, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Better to oblige his requests than tempt his anger. Arrogant fool, she cursed herself, trying to regain some semblance of composure. What am I supposed to do now?
“Do?” Drustan asked in amusement. “Forsooth, only you can decide. But you needn’t fear me, for I offer you no harm.”
Freya’s eyes widened. “You can read my thoughts?”
“And a great many other things, yes.” They stared at one another for a long moment and Freya’s sense of panic subsided. Drustan’s gaze was more warm than menacing, his posture more regal than threatening. She stood up, shaking the grass out of her hair, and offered him her hand. Drustan balanced his staff against his shoulder with his left hand, then reached out and enclosed Freya’s with his right. The handshake was firm, rough, and a bit jolting but friendly in nature.
“It is an honor to make your acquaintance, master Drustan.”
“Oho!” Drustan exclaimed. “Likewise. It pleases me to see that not all humans have forsaken the manners of the old days. I tend to observe humans from afar and have not interacted with them directly for some time. Very little of what I see gives me hope for your kind. But, no matter. The Lady has need of your aid, child. A peril is gathering in these lands, fueled by pride, arrogance, and ambition. Even now, plans are being designed which threaten to upset the balance of power so narrowly restored at the close of the Abyssal War.”
“I know not what you speak of, nor do I see how I can be of use.” Freya countered.
“That is to be expected, my child. None can comprehend the full scope and grand design of the Green Lady, even I can only guess at the very edges of her plot. Yet I have been entrusted to take you on as an apprentice, to cultivate your magic and educate you in ancient lore. Such training, limited though our time may be, shall prepare you to lend service to the Lady when summoned. When, in what form, or for what purpose, I cannot say. Sooner rather than later, I should think, as the situation is urgent.” Drustan’s expression grew somber.
“Have I a choice in this matter?” Freya inquired.
“Why yes, child, the Lady is no tyrant. Her acolytes join freely and leave as they may. Her methods generate more honest loyalty than those of your Hegemon, I might add,” Drustan smirked. “What say you, Freya? Will you accept me as your teacher?”
A chance to learn magic without returning to the City of the Golden Horn? Freya did not hesitate to reply. “Yes.”
“Excellent.” Drustan’s eyes glowed more brightly. “Then let us begin.”
